In A Dream, I Saw A City Invincible
by SomehowSundown
Summary: She's in Limbo, she thinks, remembering an expression she'd learned from Tyler. She doesn't like it here – it's cold, dark, it leaves her confused, wanting more, but she's not ready to choose a side, not yet. She thinks a visit to the doctor is in order.


**Title: **In A Dream, I Saw A City Invincible

**Author: **SomehowSundown

**Rating: **T

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. The title is borrowed from Walt Whitman's "I Dreamed In A Dream".

**Fandom: **V, 2009

**Characters / Pairing: **Lisa, Joshua, mentions of Anna, Tyler

**Spoilers: **Spoilers throughout Season 1, particularly the episode "We Can't Win", and some mention of Season Two episodes in the Author's Notes

**Summary: **She's in Limbo, she thinks, remembering an expression she'd learned from Tyler. She doesn't like it here – it's cold, dark, it leaves her confused, wanting more, but she's not ready to choose a side, not yet. She thinks a visit to the doctor is in order.

**Word Count: **3,600

**Author's Note: **I started writing this right after I finished "Somewhere, A Clock Is Ticking," and stopped about halfway through to write "World Without End, Amen". I came back to this story after, and wasn't quite sure what I wanted to do with it. Dialogue is something new for me, and so I found this a bit harder to write. It was also my first time concentrating on one moment or interaction rather than the scattered scenes of my other stories. On another note, this story is labeled as Lisa/Joshua but, like many of their scenes thus far, it's up to your interpretation. At its very core, this story is hurt/comfort. Lisa needs a confidant, someone who knows the truth about V's and their emotions, and for me Joshua is the only one that fits the bill. I imagine that that poor girl really needs someone to talk to. As I wrote it, this story takes place between "Fruition" and "Red Sky".

* * *

In A Dream, I Saw A City Invincible

* * *

Two hundred and twenty seven gray blocks make up the ceiling above her bed. She's counted four times and is half way through her fifth.

She rolls to her left, then rolls to her right. She repeats the motion twice more before tenuously resettling on her back. She's never had a problem with sleep before, always coming as naturally to her as the peace of her mother's Bliss.

If there's anything Lisa's recently learned, it's that things can change.

This, as Tyler would say, really sucks.

She's tossing and turning again. She should have no need for comfort, and yet she cannot stop herself from seeking it out. She closes her eyes and breathes in the darkness; slow, even breaths, in and out and in again. It does her no good and her eyes snap open, aware and alert. There's a pain in her chest that she's been trying to ignore, wrapping, squeezing, and furthering her discomfort. It forces her to her feet.

She's suddenly pacing, sweeping arcs across the dark floor and the action is so very human that she's stunned to stillness. She doesn't understand this, these foreign feelings, and the ache in her chest hasn't lessened any. Frustration, she's coming to realize, is a powerful motivator.

She thinks a visit to the doctor is in order.

* * *

It doesn't take her long to walk to Joshua's private quarters. The Queen keeps her physician close, especially after the birthing process. It's late, and having humans living aboard the ship as part of the new program yields the need for normalcy. The only V's in the hallways are a few guards and, somewhere unseen, her mother's scientists. Nevertheless, as the High Commander's daughter and future Queen, Lisa has access to all parts of the ship at all times.

Still, she encounters neither human nor V in the thousand or so steps it takes to reach his door. She doesn't expect him to be awake; sleep is necessary for V's to maintain their human skin, and so she isn't surprised when her knock receives no answer. She momentarily reconsiders.

Her interactions with Joshua have been strained since her failed empathy test. She's known him the entirety of her short life, but they've never been particularly close, and the past few weeks have given her an awareness of the doctor that she isn't sure how to handle. She's careful in his company now, calculating her actions and measuring her words. Her eyes seek him out upon entering a room and her spine snaps to straightness once she registers his presence. She spends her time in parts of the ship the chief medical officer isn't likely to frequent.

More than that, he probably won't be pleased if he's unexpectedly woken in the middle of the night.

But she needs answers and has no one else to ask. The keypad appears with a wave of her hand in a flurry of red lights and she enters the code – another perk of royalty in the making. The door springs open and she slips through, quietly easing it closed behind her.

His rooms are dark, but the layouts of all the V quarters are virtually the same. Passing a closet and a bathroom, she's at his bedside in ten short steps, leaning down to place her hands on his shoulders.

"Joshua?" she murmurs, and it comes out as a question, tentative, unsure. When he doesn't wake, she tries again, more insistent. He still hasn't moved, and with each passing second she grows more nervous, more uncertain. She almost forgets that he's a doctor, not a soldier, and the need to be constantly alert is not one that's been embedded in his motor and sensory reactions.

"Joshua!" she knows she sounds dangerously hysterical, and her arms tremble as she shakes him awake. She harshly whispers his name twice more before he rises unsteadily.

"Lisa?" he mumbles, tone husky and addled with sleep. His voice is usually low, but this is a roughness she hasn't yet heard from him. A lamp to her left flickers on and she can finally see his face. His brown hair is mussed and his eyes crinkle at the corners with his confusion or, perhaps, annoyance. The cloning has gifted him with one of the more expressive faces and, distractedly, she notes that he sleeps without a shirt. His sheets are wrinkled – a heavy sleeper, she muses with some light irritation. He really is the picture of humanity, and she's grateful her mother isn't here to witness him for herself.

"Joshua," she repeats, breathless. She needs to slow down, get her breathing under control. She's unaccustomed to acting so rashly, always thinking things through. She's logical, but perhaps impulsiveness is a side effect of humanity, and she still has much to learn. The realization steadies her resolve. She tries to compose herself as he fully emerges from unconsciousness, and his eyes widen when he grasps in whose presence he currently sits. He moves to stand, but her hand is on his shoulder again and he stills.

"My apologies for waking you," she manages to stabilize her voice. She nods slowly with the statement, once up and down. She realizes that barging into his private quarters unannounced in the middle of the night might cause some undue worry for the physician, and wonders when she started worrying about worrying.

"Of course," he politely returns. As a quality of her station, she knows he cannot show whatever displeasure he may feel at being so abruptly awoken, nor request that she wait until a more appropriate hour. She's spent more time than she'll admit mourning the loss of blunt honesty when it comes to her everyday interactions, but her future as Queen is another matter. She has more important issues at the moment.

"What is it, Lisa?" he adds, pulling her out of her inner musings. His voice is soft, gentle, as if she's a scared animal and any loud noise will frighten her away. She thinks that assumption may not be far from the truth. He's looking up from where he still sits, eyes catching hers, curious and concerned, and the emotion there sets her pacing again.

"There's something wrong with me," she starts, unsettled, confused. The back and forth motion does nothing to assuage her frenzied nerves, but there's little else she can do. She continues, and his eyes trace her steps as she walks.

"I can't sleep. I've tried for hours. I can't stop tossing. I can't stop turning. I can't get comfortable." The words are out of her mouth, hanging unsteadily in the air between the two before she can stop them. They sound too human, make her too vulnerable, and she does a quick rewrite in her head.

"I've never had difficulty with sleep." She's satisfied with her new choice of words; diplomatic and reserved. She's good with diplomacy, a trait that will undoubtedly serve her well once she takes her role as Queen. After sparing a few moments for thought, the chief medical officer speaks.

"It is my understanding," Joshua begins, and Lisa abruptly halts her pacing in favor of turning toward the doctor, intrigued, precarious, desperate, "that you are experiencing a condition called insomnia." She waits for him to elaborate and finds that she hasn't the patience for waiting.

"Insomnia," she repeats. It's a statement, an imitation, but the question lurks beneath. She levels him with a look that advises he provide an answer. It's another something her mother tells her will be useful once she becomes Queen. She's been schooled in subtlety, coached in the art of refinement, and the familiarity gives her assurance for a fleeting moment.

He seems unaffected, and yet his answer is swift.

"It's characterized by difficulties initiating and maintaining sleep. Those who suffer from the disorder often experience periods of wakefulness, inability to fall asleep. It's quite common in humans." He doesn't seem terribly concerned, and this concerns her greatly. His explanation falls short of her expectations, and she tells him such.

"My skin may be human, but I am not." She knows this and knows it well, or so she thinks. So she wants to. Her real skin is green, and her true eyes are gold. Her blonde hair is adequate for human standards, silky and smooth, and if she's honesty with herself she quite likes it, but it's not hers, not really, she tells herself, and most days she can accept this logic. With a start and a frustrated huff, she releases the strands she's been idly twirling between her fingers.

"My skin aside, there is nothing human about me." She sounds unpersuasive, defeated, and something like her mother. She wonders if she could convince Joshua without first convincing herself, but her hopes are quickly dashed, shattered shards that would cut her if she let them. The look he directs her way suggests he would easily contradict her statement, and it seems she isn't the only one educated in delicacy and nonverbal communication. She lets out another aggravated sigh, damning his ability to see through her carefully practiced deceptions.

"There's more," she adds. She can feel the panic rising, and she can't wish it away. He's patient, calm and collected – but she's not.

"There's a pain in my chest. It hurts, I hurt, and I don't know what's causing it. There must be something wrong," and she painfully watches as all her refined reservation escapes her loose hold, "something out of place or not working right. A strain or fracture, perhaps." She's grasping at straws, but she prefers these explanations over the conclusions she's drawn herself. Emotion, as she'd been told, is a weakness, more so than physical pain. The thought that this notion may be wrong is one she's not sure she's ready to learn for herself.

She waves her right arm across the expanse of her torso for good measure. She notices that he's still without a shirt, and takes a moment to examine what his large lab coat normally hides. He's actually quite fit. There's a sparse sprinkling of hair that stretches across his pectorals, thinning out to disappear below the waistband of his gray sleepwear. It's something she hasn't yet seen before, having only the smooth span of Tyler's upper body for comparison. As with all of her new human experiences, she's fascinated. She wonders how different it would feel if she were to reach out and place her hand on his chest. She shakes her head to clear it, mentally storing this strange information away for a later time.

"This feeling," and she cringes slightly at the word – she still isn't certain how much she can give away around the doctor, "isn't normal. I need to know what's happening to me. It feels like the air is being squeezed from my lungs, like there's something twisting at my heart. I need to know how to fix this. Perhaps there's a scan you could do?" Her hair's found its way back to her fingers. The act of brushing and braiding is also very human, and yet Lisa cannot help herself.

"That won't be necessary," Joshua tells her, and she'd raise her voice in protest if she didn't think it'd hurt her case. Control is something else she's not had problems with in the past. She reluctantly lets him continue.

"The sensations you're experiencing sound like side effects to a psychological state called anxiety, also common in humans." She barely stops herself from interrupting once more, afraid he'll dig too deep – find her out. "Heart palpitations and shortness of breath frequently accompany the condition's presence. It occurs as a natural reaction to stress, and is probably the cause behind your insomnia."

He leaves the question unspoken, and the weight of the ensuing silence is almost palpable. Of course she's troubled – she'd be a fool not to be. She failed the empathy test, and knows that Joshua can't cover for her for long. The success of her mother's plans depends on her ability to complete a mission she thinks she'd rather fail. The future of an entire race rides on her shoulders, as the day when she'll be crowned Queen approaches faster than she'd like. And that fact that she's considering destroying her mother's eggs – she's feeling things she shouldn't be feeling, thinking things she shouldn't be thinking.

And then there's the deception. She's deceiving Marcus into thinking she's not deceiving her mother, deceiving her mother into thinking she's deceiving Erica, deceiving Erica into thinking she's not deceiving Tyler, and she's deceiving so many people that she thinks she may as well be deceiving herself.

And her worst offence? She's currently standing in the presence of the leader of the Fifth Column aboard the mother ships, traitor to her mother, asking for his help.

Her inability to sleep is suddenly unimportant.

"What is it, Lisa?" he asks once more, just as soft, just as sincere, an echo of simpler times. She wants to talk, wants to scream, wants someone to tell her that this, whatever this is, is the right thing, and there's no one, not Marcus, not Tyler, not her mother, to whom she can voice her concerns. Except maybe, she thinks, the man in front of her. She sighs, and with that the rest of her carefully practiced notions and pretenses slip away.

"I," she starts, searching for the right words, "I don't think – I can't do this," she breathes, turning away from the doctor in shame. She has no direction, no side. She doesn't support her mother's plans concerning the humans, and yet Anna is her _mother_, and she knows not if she has it within her to betray the High Commander. She almost wants Joshua's side to win, to save the humans, and yet she cannot bring herself to join them, not completely. She's in Limbo, she thinks, remembering an expression she'd learned from Tyler. She doesn't like it here – it's cold, dark, it leaves her confused, wanting more, but she's not ready to choose a side, not yet.

She closes her eyes and fights back the urge to cry. Pacing, pulling at her hair – those actions she can explain, justify even, but crying would give herself away, shine a spotlight on all of her insecurities and she's not ready for that either. The silence is too thick, too heavy, too difficult for her to wrap her head around and deal with. A hand on her shoulder and another at her waist slowly turn her back around. She didn't hear Joshua rise from the bed, but there he is, not a foot of space between them, leveling her with a look that says both too much and not enough.

"There are more of us than you know," he says, and the way he includes her in their numbers makes her want to pace again. It's a habit she's quickly becoming quite fond of.

"Our directive is clear," he continues, still quiet, still calm. "We're to protect you at all costs. Your mission with Tyler provides a unique opportunity. Its importance to your mother has blinded her to certain changes." Her face forms a grimace at the last word and her shoulders tighten. The ache in chest grows stronger.

"Keep him close and you can pass off any display of emotion as part of your task. So long as you continue your assignment, you won't raise suspicion." His eyes radiate optimism and she curses whatever V was responsible for choosing Joshua's human face.

"But the empathy tests," Lisa interrupts. Joshua has already lied to her mother once, and she is loath to take such a risk again should the High Commander demand further evaluation.

"We're willing to do whatever it takes to ensure this knowledge escapes her attention. Several precautions have been put into place should your mother discover my involvement with the Fifth Column." He pauses. It's the first time she's heard him clearly define his loyalties, and her objections temporarily die in her throat. She closes her eyes again– his stare is too intense, she's too scared, and this – it's too much.

They don't stay closed for long. A shock of warmth and softness lightly gripping her chin, fingers, she realizes, forces her gaze back to the man in front of her.

"You have nothing to fear, Lisa." She doesn't know if it's a whisper or if the blood rushing through her head muddles the sound, but it's quiet. She forces herself to focus; away from the prying eyes of Anna and her followers, she has a rare chance to examine the doctor up close. What she sees sets her nerves aflame.

He has the look of a man who has resigned himself to death.

She recognizes the emotion bubbling toward the surface as anger. She wants to demand that they stop. They're foolish to risk danger for her sake. What makes her so worthy, so special? What makes her life so much more important than theirs? Anna's daughter be damned, she's no better than anyone else. She doesn't want Joshua to die on her behalf – doesn't want him to do anything really, short of lay down once more and go back to sleep so she can see for herself that he's safe, sound, and not about to do something dangerous.

All of her questions, all of her arguments, and all she manages is a meager "Why?"

"Because you're our future," and he's so serious and so confident that she sways where she stands. Her shoulders are small and weak, and not fit to carry such a burden. His hands reach out to steady her.

"What do I do?" she asks, sounding like a child and not like the potential leader of their people. She's tired, more than just the lack of sleep catching up with her, weighing down her limbs with worry and weariness. The panic, anger, anxiety, objections – all of it ebbs away and leaves a void with which she has only exhaustion to fill. She's grateful that Joshua's hands are still wrapped around her shoulders, preventing her from sinking to her knees.

"For now," he starts, soft and soothing, "rest. Stay here for the night," he says, and she's flustered all over again at the proposition. "I can monitor your development if you still find yourself unable to sleep." She's quickly reminded of his position as physician, and wonders if it's the only reason he's invited her to stay.

"But my mother," she prompts. Her mother would not look favorably on her interaction with Joshua. Any of it, she thinks. V's are solitary and stoic, and do not require comfort or companionship. But not her, she thinks. She's different.

"Your mother is still recovering from the birthing process," the doctor explains. She remembers the yellow hue of her mother's skin, her labored breathing, and thinks that Anna may not be as strong as she pretends to be. "Marcus will be with her," he adds, as if sensing her next inquiry.

Lisa drags her eyes from his, needing a moment to think and he lets her take it. She sighs. Her two biggest threats are out of the way, but that doesn't eliminate the hundreds of other Vs she could possibly encounter on the way back to her quarters in her delicate state. The thought yields a shake of her head, as she remembers her walk to Joshua's rooms. She knows she'll be alone in the hallways.

Alone.

The word evokes a strange sort of pain, achingly familiar to the twinge she'd not felt fifteen minutes ago, yet new, lower and more like a stab than a twist. She's runs through her mental inventory of human emotion, trying to identify the sensation, and settles quickly on another word. It too is not one that she particularly enjoys.

Sadness.

She doesn't want to be alone, not tonight. She wants to be reassured. She wants a confidant, someone that can keep her secret so she won't have to keep it on her own. More than that, she muses, she _needs _one. It's overwhelming, the desire to have someone to talk to. She's somehow distanced from everyone in her life that she could possibly care for– from her mother, from Tyler, from Erica, and wonders if it's so wrong to want to be close to someone, anyone. She wants to feel, and feel safe.

"No harm will come to you here," Joshua says, and for the first time in a long time, she has something she can be sure of. She makes a decision.

"Ok," she says, she breathes, she feels. "Ok."

* * *

Five minutes after he lays back down, Joshua is asleep. Sound asleep, it seems, when she whispers his name and he doesn't answer. He's lying flat on his back, sheets settled somewhere on his hips, hair still rumpled. She smiles, once again thinking that he looks as human as she feels.

"Joshua?" she whispers once more to be sure. There's three or four feet between where he sleeps on and she lies in the darkness, a gap she easily closes. Next to him, she can feel the heat his human skin gives off, warm and calming. Carefully, silently, she settles in the curve of his side, resting her head on his chest. It rises and falls with each of his breaths, deep and even. She closes her eyes, and instead of blocks, she counts heartbeats.

_One. _Her fingers find themselves splayed hesitantly on his torso, a lingering curiosity rising to the surface. It's different, she thinks. Still smooth, and soft.

_Three._ Her hand moves to drape over his other side, a light, one-armed embrace. She's never felt more safe. For now, she thinks, they're both safe.

_Five. _She smiles.

_Six. _She sleeps.

**

* * *

**

Author's Note:

I wrote most of this before the start of Season Two, before seeing what a V bedroom looked like, before I knew that the V's actually slept, and before Anna had any real suspicion of Lisa. Any other minor inconsistencies with Season Two episodes were also probably written before the premier. I also took some liberties and leads from personal experience with my explanations of insomnia and anxiety, and apologize if they're not completely accurate.

Thanks for reading!


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